Going down

Our family is like a World War II bomber under fire but somehow managing to stay aloft. My husband (who receives credit for this analogy) and I in the cockpit as the kids yell out that the left wing is on fire and the rudder has fallen off. Such were yesterday’s conditions as we steered the minivan into the church parking lot.

Half the family was sick, but Sunday was the culmination of two years of religious education, and so the Devil be damned, we were going forward with First Communion. As we walked into church, I stuffed a lozenge in a mouth, tucked a handkerchief into a pocket and uttered a small prayer that no one cough on the Host.

God answered that prayer.

As bread and wine were blessed, the five children receiving the sacrament of the Eucharist gathered around the altar. As I watched, Max slowly sunk from view, then stood again, whispered to the priest, walked a few steps, knelt down and puked. This family was crash landing before the eyes of the congregation.

I whisked Max away to the bathroom, cleaned him up and marched him back up the aisle to accept communion. As Max held out his hands, Christ looked down from his cross and said, “Dude, you look terrible. Go home.”

We took his advice.

http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649

I’m happy to report that after more coughs, sputters and groans, the family took to the air this morning. Over and out.